Please don't let us die for each other.

Nothing else rang in his mind. There was nothing - nobody - he could focus on that didn't stem back to her.

Was it fate that brought them together a second time? Why had they met a second time? How was this even possible?

Callum didn't know the answers to any of these questions, but he knew they couldn't die for each other. They couldn't die, period.

Growing up within the Coalition, everyone had detested the Games. That was something that had never been disputed. Each tribute had a life, a family and friends. Tributes weren't two-week stars to be aired throughout the districts, they were real people. They had aspirations and hopes for their lives. (Most of the upper district tributes' aspirations were to win the Games, but nonetheless, they were still people.)

Everyone deserves better than that, is what Amaya had taught Callum and Ezran.

Now, when he thought back to Amaya enlightening him with the knowledge that everyone deserves a genuine chance at life, Callum wielded the statement in a new light.

Had Amaya not been treated like a real person because of the Games? At this point in time, all those years ago, what had she been feeling and thinking?

His heart ached for her. These were things he wished so badly that he could ask her now.

Had she ever been a mentor? If she had, Callum selfishly wished that she would have stayed a mentor until Ezran had rejoiced on his nineteenth birthday. Then they would all be safe.

But then what would've happened to Rayla?

Even though he knew he wasn't much, Callum still wanted to be here for her. To protect her and shield her.

Is this why Amaya started the Coalition? To protect people and shield them? Did she feel this way towards the people in her Game?

Did she start the Coalition because she couldn't save them from the Games? Has my whole life been built upon grief?

Something hollow and despairing was kindling inside of Callum.

Am I about to repeat the process?

Beside him, Freya grunted.

All of the tributes were lined up again, pretending they didn't feel the rancor strewing from the training administrator as she looked over them. Freya had grunted to call Callum back from his mind, to remind him to stand up straight and look like a real threat.

It didn't work.

District 9's volunteer was still dwelling on his never-ending questions, revising his expression into that of confusion and exasperation. Only when the administrator stepped in front of him, did he blank his expression.

"Did anyone on your mother's side ever tell you that it's easier to break down boys, rather than build up men, tribute?"

Callum shook his head without making eye contact, stammering the word "no."

The administrator seemed to glare at him for another moment, before strolling farther down the line.

"It's a precise practice that never fails. Peacekeepers are made Peacekeepers through this practice. I was born from this practice. Some of you have an idea of what I'm talking about," she said, glancing at the front of the line. "Others will never experience it."

Her eyes were on the lower district tributes.

"Two weeks is not enough time to execute the practice, but tributes, it is not up to me whether or not you will receive it. Your mentors are the ones who will decide."

With that, she turned around and stalked back to the center of the room, looking up at the upper-level balconies.

"Tributes," a new voice boomed through the PA system. "Go to the third floor. There you will find a room with the same number as your quarters. Enter it, and say hello to your mentor. You will be permitted one hour with them. When the time is up, go back to your quarters."

Some tributes had begun whispering to one another. The administrator snapped her finger and silence followed.

"Tomorrow you meet your mentors here at seven sharp. From then on, they will decide your routine. Have a nice evening, tributes. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Too soon, the front of the line was moving. Careers departed with whoops and hollers while middle district tributes tailed with hushed voices and eager eyes.

Freya appeared to be glaring at Callum, but he could tell that she wasn't directing her anger at him. She'd been mad ever since they'd gotten into the Capitol.

Meanwhile, Callum had been a bundle of anxiety ever since they'd gotten into the Capitol. His heart never stopped pounding, echoing inside his head. His breathing was always too shallow and his palms were sticky with sweat even though shivers continuously affected his body.

Freya was a nice contrast compared to him. She didn't say much, but she looked out for him when he needed it. Like now.

"What's with you?" she was asking him impatiently. "They'll follow us too, we're all going to the same place."

But Callum couldn't stop staring at his stranger.

Rayla noticed this, and nodded her head at him. She could tell he was scared. She was, too. Who would want to mentor an Untamed?

"Why did she ask about your mother's side?"

Another unfamiliar voice distracted Callum long enough for Freya to tug on his arm and get him to step in sequence with her.

"Is she related to you or something?"

The tribute behind him, the girl from Ten, was frowning at him in question. Her cheeks and nose were dotted in freckles that were as orange as her hair.

"I-I don't know," he lied. "I thought it was a figure of speech here?"

Scowling, the girl backpedaled her question when the tributes had to pile into two large elevators. When they ascended to the third floor, everyone went their separate ways, searching for the room with their assigned number bolted onto it.

Number one was the first girl from District 1 and number twenty-four was the last boy from District 12, making Callum number eighteen.

Callum looked far down the hallway, locating the door with the number twenty-three printed on it, and saw Rayla preparing to enter. Her eyes were narrowed but alight with apprehension.

Trying to channel her ferocity, District 9's volunteer sauntered towards his assigned room. Quieting his anxieties proved to be futile. By the time he reached the barrier between him and his mentor, everyone had disappeared into their own rooms.

Callum fumbled at the door, hesitating, trying not to look back at the Peacekeepers who were lined along the opposite side of the hallway. Surely they were sneering at his conundrum. Why had he stalled so long? Now he had no idea what to do.

There was no doorknob on the door, but a jutting, vertical bar that was intended to be grabbed and . . . what, exactly?

Pushed? Pulled?

While he limply wound his fingers around the bar, he thought he could hear pattering footsteps approaching in front of him. Without warning, the door was yanked open (telling Callum that he would've had to push), pulling him along with it.

His mentor stood before him, evidently even more excited than he was nervous. Callum let go of the door and stepped back, his eyes wide.

The President's daughter, he recognized numbly. Last year's Victor. She's right here, right in front of me. She . . . she chose me?

"I'm Claudia!"

"Claudia," Callum reprised in a haze.

Green eyes were something that both tribute and mentor shared, but that seemed to be it.

His mentor was respectfully taller than him, although currently she was wearing heeled boots that resulted in her towering over him. Both of her ears had been pierced three times, once through her earlobe and twice at the top of her ear. There was also one ring in the side of her nose and one at the end of her left eyebrow. There had to be a word aside from "dark" to epitomize her style, but Callum couldn't place it. Shades of ebony melded into her long-sleeved attire. Her hair reached the small of her back and was naturally black and professionally straightened, albeit dip-dyed violet at the end. All of the hues somehow balanced against her pale skin and brazen-red lipstick.

Blood-red lipstick.

But Claudia's smile was ecstatic and genuine, happy enough to reassure Callum that he was inviolable, had he not known about her background and watched her earn her title of Victor.

Before the Peacekeepers could push him inside, Claudia beckoned Callum closer and turned around to kick the door shut.

"You're Callum, right? I can't tell you how happy I am to be your mentor!" she exclaimed, grabbing one of his hands and shaking it.

"R-really?" was all he could stammer.

Claudia ended the handshake and put her hands on her hips, shooting him a regaling grin.

"Yes, really! Come here, sit down. I remember the first day being so rough, with all the strutting and waiting."

Two pear-green, backless sofas were arranged in the middle of the bare room. Between them was a short, rectangular glass table topped in food and drink. Claudia guided Callum to one of the cushioned benches and ordered him to sit, then took her place across from him.

There was no awkward silence or frenzied planning that ensued. Nothing that Callum had anticipated began to occur, which might have worried him even more.

Claudia's energy was lively and bright and frankly draining to the volunteer. She hadn't given him her prevailing impression on screen. During her run in the Games she had been somewhat upbeat, but never this happy. Always thinking positive and coming up with creative solutions, but again, not like this.

Callum didn't know that a Victor could be so authentically happy.

"Do you want any water or snacks? They gave us a meat and cheese board." She furrowed her brow. "I don't want any - I'm vegan - so if you want some, it's all yours!"

Vegan?

Callum gaped at her. This Victor, this teenage girl, was alright with killing people just to win a game, but drew a line at eating meat?

How . . . how does she even justify that?

"I snatched you before the other mentors could even blink," Claudia started to inform him. "But watching you in the Training Center, I didn't expect you to be so different from your aunt."

"Right," Callum mumbled. He slouched in his seat.

Now it made sense. Now he knew why she chose him.

"Amaya, she was, uh, in the Games before, too."

"She wasn't just in the games, she was the Victor of her Game! Why don't you look happy about that?" Claudia crossed her legs and propped her chin up on one of her hands, frowning sincerely.

Callum didn't like her undivided attention. It should have felt threatening and unnerving, but it didn't. It felt normal. Like she really cared. Every expression and tone of voice was telling him that she really cared.

Is this how she won her Game?

"She never told us about her history in the Games. I didn't know about any of it until Reaping Day, after I volunteered."

Claudia's pupils fanned wide and her mouth might as well have been hanging open.

"Wait, no, seriously? Why wouldn't she tell you? She's one of the most memorable Victors! Did you know that she was the youngest one?"

"I think . . . she just wanted to forget about it ever happening. But yeah, it's hard to believe any younger tribute would have survived the Games."

"She didn't survive the Games, Callum, she won them!" Claudia was smiling again, tilting her head fondly. "I'll show you all of the clips from her year. It will be like she's right here with you, teaching you."

That made Callum mirror her expression. "I'd love that. Thanks, Claudia."

Claudia nodded her head cheerily and then narrowed her gaze. "Now, that does change things. Here I thought you've known about Amaya's victory all your life. Best case scenario, she would have been mentoring you in secret." She lowered her voice. "Your family's Coalition, though. What's the deal with that?"

Callum reddened, wondering why his mentor was even attempting to quiet herself at all. Every room in the Capitol was riddled with concealed microphones and cameras. Callum almost took offense when Claudia believed him to think otherwise.

Surprisingly though, Claudia immediately realized what her tribute was contemplating.

"None of these rooms are bugged, Callum. Mentors are here to make our tributes Victors through any means necessary. And this is where that magic happens, right? Nobody wants to learn the secrets behind a trick, they just want a good show."

Claudia was still smiling, waving her hands around with every word, but Callum could read how austere she was.

The Games was a show. It didn't matter to the gamemakers how tributes strived to win as long as they made it look flashy and dramatic. Thankfully Claudia already knew this. Thankfully she didn't treat the Games like everyone else. She didn't lie to her tribute about how it was a great honor to be here. She didn't pretend to feign indifference.

Twenty seconds ago, Callum would have never believed her. She was getting him to trust him, though. He could see that she was serious.

This was a game, and she wanted her tribute to win.

Still, Victor Claudia was different from the President's daughter Claudia. That still panicked Callum enough to want to restrict how much he told her.

"Are you sure?" he couldn't help but ask.

Maybe it was the relief of knowing that there were no cameras in the room, maybe it was the fact that he was cautiously starting to trust Claudia, or maybe he was just too spent to care, but Callum wasn't trying to look brave anymore. He didn't know how to hide the anxiety that was heavy in his voice.

"What about your dad? President Viren?"

A passively annoyed look crossed Claudia's expression and she rolled her eyes. "He doesn't have a say in how I mentor my tribute. Even if he did listen in on our conversations, he wouldn't be able to stop me. He's President, not a gamemaker."

Most of what she said was heartening.

"Is . . . is his friend still Head Gamemaker?"

"Aaravos? Yeah, why?" Claudia thought for a moment. "No, no, Callum. I'm your mentor. I will protect you. It's my job to make you Victor and I will stop at nothing to make that happen. I promise."

The two were quiet for a long moment.

"Our Coalition isn't an uprising. We're just trying to help people. So many children don't have parents or homes. You wouldn't believe how many elderly people are abandoned the moment they can't contribute to society. The same goes for sick and injured people. A lot of families who are lucky enough to have each other don't have anything else. Not enough food or safe water or shelter. We help them."

"That's wonderful, Callum. We'll make sure to mention that in your interview, it'll really tug on some heartstrings."

Callum instantly grimaced. Part of his fear was giving way to aggravation.

"I-I'm not trying to make people like me, Claudia. What I said was really the truth."

Callum's mentor had her eyes slit in concentration and her fingers drumming a steady rhythm on her leg. "Oh yes, I know, and it helps you a lot. You want people to be on your side. You want sponsors. You know all this." Then she mumbled, "It's hard enough that your aunt is Victor Amaya."

Aggravation bubbled up inside of Callum faster now. "What? Why? That should make things easier. I'm related to a Victor. I've got the genes to win."

"No, no," Claudia began, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "The Capitol could never sponsor Amaya, they never approved of her. Callum, she wasn't exactly supposed to win. Not that there's a plan on who will win, but usually we have an idea, right?" She chuckled bitterly. "A deaf, nine-year-old from a lower district was never even considered. With good reason too, because her victory should've never happened. You may have the genes to win, Callum, but don't do it the way she did. You won't make it. People don't like surprises. Just play the Games and stay safe, in all respects. Do you understand?"

"Give the people what they want," Callum summarized in a monotone voice. "Don't make them feel stupid."

"Yes! Exactly. They want to root for someone they can see themselves in. So don't be bloodthirsty, but don't be a coward. You have to try twice as hard as the other tributes. Sponsors are going to be afraid of you because of Amaya," she told him quietly. "Don't rely on her to win. You need to become your own person if you want to be Victor. I won't let you rely on anyone else."

Her last sentence made Callum look up from where he'd set his gaze. He found that Claudia was already staring at him studiously. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and glanced away.

"I won't make it on my own."

"That's why you're here, Callum. I'll teach you what you need to know."

Another long silence.

"I've already allied," he said.

There was another inaudible pause as Claudia gathered herself, recrossing her legs and folding her hands together.

"Yes, I thought I saw something like that happen today. The Untamed from Twelve, right?"

Callum flicked his gaze back up at Claudia, taken aback to hear something like disgust in her voice.

"Yeah, her."

"You're smart, Callum. From the second you walked in, I could see you picking apart this place. Studying your fellow tributes and watching what they excel at and where they lack." Claudia exhaled deeply. "The problem with an alliance is that whoever you team up with can make you look bad. Whatever they do, whatever they are, it reflects onto you."

"She'll stand out, I know that. But I will too, because of Amaya. We could really be something if we play our cards right. People will already be watching us, so why not give them a good show?"

When Claudia didn't interject, Callum went on.

"She's strong. I know you were supposed to be watching me, but you noticed her too, right? She held her own against a Career, Claudia. She's got real survival skills and practice with weapons. I bet if she had been born in an upper district, she could have been a Career."

"I don't doubt that. She's from the lowest district though, Callum. She's an Untamed. Not trustworthy and not liked by anyone. People will be watching her from the start, yeah, but not in a good way. Untameds aren't supposed to exist. The fact that she volunteered for the Games tells me she's suicidal. Gamemakers will give her Hell from the start."

"She signed up to save her uncle, she didn't have another choice," Callum snapped. "She wants to win for him."

A familiar voice blared through the PA system.

"Mentors and tributes, this is your five-minute warning."

Claudia didn't seem to hear it. "She'll be targeted. I can't let you go down with her."

"She'll make it to the end, I know she will," Callum prompted.

"It doesn't matter if she makes it to the end or not. Only one of you is getting out alive," Claudia told him in a hushed, strained voice.

Callum endeavored not to show the nerve he was feeling. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think your head is in the clouds. I think that you need to start thinking like a Victor, not a tribute. I need you to trust me, Callum."

"You won't even trust me!"

"I've been through this before, I know what works and what doesn't. I know you're smarter than you're letting on." She sighed, clenching and unclenching her jaw. It seemed to ground her, because when she spoke again, her voice was soft and pleading. "I need you to trust me enough to tell me what you're thinking, Callum."

"I don't know!" he exploded. "This, this hasn't all sunk in yet! I don't want to be here, Claudia. I'm not like you. I didn't volunteer to win, I volunteered to save Ezran. I don't think the Games are just. Every one of us has a life and family and friends. Why does one person deserve to live more than another? Why do they do this to teenagers, children, of all people! We have our whole lives ahead of us, we have everything to lose."

"It makes for a better Game," Claudia advised him gently. She gazed at the digital clock above the door and didn't look away. "It's time you stopped thinking that way, though. It's too late for that. Unless you can channel it to win the Games, drop it, because it's not going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not getting anywhere without Rayla, anyway. Please, Claudia, you're my mentor and I need you to trust me."

Claudia was quiet for a while, letting her eyelids fall before she spoke. Her voice was weary and raw. "You're my first tribute, Callum. I just want you to survive."

Callum shifted to the edge of his seat, nodding his head and smiling in a heartening fashion. "I will survive. I promised my brother and my dad that I would. Claudia, I want to make you the mentor of a Victor. You just have to trust me, too."

Claudia stared at him soundlessly, emotionlessly. "Fine." Another exhale. "I'll trust you."

"Mentors and tributes, your time is up. Return to your quarters at once."

Claudia stood up and walked quickly over to Callum. "I'll meet you on the training level tomorrow morning at seven. Don't be late." She took his hand and shook it, helping him up. "I'm excited to be your mentor, really. You need to trust me now too, though. I believe I can make you Victor, Callum."

A Peacekeeper was opening the door to the room. Claudia steered Callum towards it. He looked back and smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you, Claudia."

Flukes or fates must have been on their side, because Callum and Rayla were synchronously pushed beside each other on the elevator ride up to their quarters.

"Your mentor?" Rayla breathed without looking at him.

Their arms were touching and the rough sway of the elevator threatened to make both of them sick.

"Claudia," Callum managed. His eyes flitted up to hers for a millisecond. She was already staring at him, mouth agape.

"She's not as bloodthirsty as the Games made her out to be - she's already looking out for me," he informed Rayla. "I think she's going to be a good mentor."

When Rayla failed to respond, Callum nudged her softly. He wanted to change the subject. Something about Rayla's reaction made him feel uneasy. "Who's your mentor?"

"Soren."

"S-Soren?" Callum sputtered.

Rayla swallowed and nodded her head. She looked just as perturbed as him.

Why? Callum thought. Claudia chose me because of Amaya. Rayla isn't related to a Victor, right? Why would he choose her?

"He's no' as serious as I thought," Rayla murmured. "He's cocky and coorse. I don't think he likes me," she went on, no longer looking at Callum, but scowling at the ground.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but why did he choose you, then?"

"I don't know. He hasn't yet said," Rayla whispered.

The elevator dinged. Little by little, the tributes wedged past each other. Callum and Rayla stuck close together in the hallway. They bowed their heads to keep their words a secret.

"I can ask Claudia about it," Callum offered.

"No," Rayla nearly hissed.

"It's okay, Rayla." The back of Callum's hand touched hers. "I told Claudia about us. A-about our alliance."

Rayla was quiet. That was far too many things to reflect on. Not enough time. Callum's door was only a yard away.

"I'm goin' to be at the training setup at six-thirty. I'll be by the survival stands." She raised her head in level with Callum's as they approached his door. "I'll talk to ye then?"

"Sounds like a plan." Callum smiled at her. "Have a good night, Rayla."

Rayla told herself not to linger at his door while she neared it. She tried to smile back at her ally.

My stranger.

"Ye as well, Callum."

"She's going to ruin my life. She's going to ruin my title," he spat. "Why would he do this to me?"

"He did the same thing to me-"

"That's different. You don't get it."

Behind the windows, the sun was setting, casting cotton-candy colors across the length of the sky. It was another humid day. Too hot to bear, so the two hid inside.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He bowed his chin and glowered.

"It's fine, Soren." Claudia reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. He only sighed, turning away from her.

"I've chosen good tributes in the past, haven't I?"

Claudia didn't counter her brother, attempting to veil her grimace.

Yes, Soren had chosen formidable tributes in the past, although that didn't mean any of them had ever survived to be Victor.

"He owes me this, Claudia," Soren grieved. His lips were drawn back and Claudia wasn't sure if the action was the beginning of a snarl or a sob. "He owes me. I deserve more than this."

Strained silence bloomed between siblings.

"I made him who he is."

"Soren," Claudia rasped. "Enough, please. It's just one Game."

"It's your first Game as Victor, Claudia! You, of all people, deserve more than this. After the Victory Tour you went through, you deserve to be rewarded by choosing your own tribute for the next Game. I-it's always been that way. I don't care if he's President, he shouldn't be able to take that away from anyone."

Claudia remained silent for many heartbeats. "Don't do this, Soren. Your tribute can't be that bad."

Even Claudia could hear the lie lacing her words.

The shadow in Soren's eyes got darker when he spoke. "There's no sense in that. She could be the best tribute yet, but she's an Untamed, and that will cost her everything." The Victor shook his head and stood up. "I'm going to the Victors' Platform. I need to get rid of this energy. Good night, Claudia."

With that, he stormed outside, unable to bear being inside his father's home any longer.

Claudia simply hung her head, vowing to get through to Callum, who would inevitably get through to that Untamed.